


Mentoring The Mentor

by bjbookcase



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjbookcase/pseuds/bjbookcase
Summary: What if Kathryn encouraged Chakotay to date Seven?





	Mentoring The Mentor

“Seven came to me with a rather interesting proposal today. I thought I might get your opinion before acting on it.”

“Let me guess,” Kathryn Janeway replied as she settled back on Chakotay’s couch, a glass of after-dinner wine balanced in her hand. “She’s found a new rationalization for requesting additional power resources for the astrometrics lab. She and I have been over that time and again. I can’t believe she thinks coming to you is really going to affect the outcome.” Janeway reached out and lightly touched her first officer’s cheek. “Those dimples of yours may be real watt burners, Chakotay, but we still haven’t figured out how to harness that energy.”

“Actually, that’s closer to what Seven has in mind than you may think,” Chakotay said with a chuckle, turning the dimples in question up to full wattage. “She’s requesting my help in shedding some light on the intricacies of human social interactions.”

It took a moment, but no one could ever accuse Kathryn Janeway of being slow. The hand touching Chakotay’s cheek jerked back as if burned. “She wants to date you?”

Chakotay leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch and letting a smug smile replace his dimples. “Yep. Seems she feels, after the less than satisfactory results of previous social interactions with less experienced, younger males, she would benefit from the guidance of someone more experienced and mature.”

He watched with interest the flurry of emotions crossing Kathryn’s face, curious as to which one she would settle on. With Kathryn you never knew. Only rarely did she let her real feelings surface, especially where he was concerned. Still, even just a hint of jealousy would make being propositioned by their resident Borg, of all people, worthwhile.

He should have known better.

“Someone older who’s been around the block a few times, huh?” Kathryn took a slow sip of her wine, swirling the remaining liquid in her glass. Despite the thoughtful look on her face, Chakotay would swear her lips were twitching with contained amusement.

“Well, you certainly fit that bill,” she began seriously, only to lose it as she looked up at him.

He couldn’t help but return her smile. “Thank you . . . I think.”

“No, really, Chakotay, I can see the attraction. Venturing out into the world of dating has enough awkwardness and trepidation associated with it without having to blunder along with a partner who is just as clumsy and scared.” Kathryn was dead serious now and warming to her subject. “An experienced date, with the maturity to respect the beginner’s naiveté . . . it would be a godsend.”

“Kathryn, I don’t think-“

“Oh, come on, Chakotay. You’d be the perfect dating mentor. You’re thoughtful, caring, generous.” She gave him one of her lopsided smiles, her blues eyes twinkling. “And reasonably easy on the eyes.”

“Flattery isn’t going to work, Kathryn. You’re overlooking one very important obstacle: my track record with relationships isn’t exactly stellar. In fact, one might say it’s down right depressing.” Chakotay’s head dropped into his hands; he couldn’t believe he just said that.

A hand gently squeezed his forearm. “Those women just weren’t right for you.”

Great, now he had her pity.

_Wait a minute._ Chakotay’s head snapped up and he turned to Janeway in disbelief. “You think Seven **is** right for me?”

The hand on his arm moved, shoving him. And none too gently. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Sometimes I think you’ve hit that thick skull of yours in one too many shuttle crashes. You’d be mentoring her on dating, not making a lifetime commitment.”

The hand poked at him playfully now. “Come on, Chakotay, get into the spirit of this.” Kathryn’s voice dropped into that husky, wheedling tone he was defenseless against. “Spending time with a beautiful, young woman. One who’s chosen you out of all the men on _Voyager_ to teach her how to interact with the opposite sex. You and I both know there are men on this ship who would give up their right testicle to be in your shoes.”

“Not the left one?” he asked sarcastically, just managing to dodge the hand heading his way again.

“You know what I mean.”

Suddenly, Kathryn was all seriousness. “Look, if you are really that concerned about your so called lousy track record messing this up, I suppose I could help out.”

“That’s a relief. You and Seven make a much cuter couple.”

He didn’t dodge quick enough this time.

“Very funny, Chakotay. What I have in mind is you and I meeting . . . well, knowing how unpredictable the Delta Quadrant is, let’s just leave it at as soon as we can after your dates with Seven, to discuss how they went. I could give you pointers . . . suggestions. You know, from a woman’s point of view.”

“Sort of mentoring the mentor?”

“Exactly!”

Bruised, his arm was definitely bruised. And he still really, really, really didn’t want to date a Borg.

Then again, he really did enjoy seeing Kathryn so caught up in her own enthusiasm: eyes sparkling, her face aglow with excitement, graceful hands dancing through the air as her rich, mellow voice outlined possibilities for his first date with Seven of Nine. Look at it this way, old man, he consoled himself, each date with Seven guarantees you time with Kathryn.

* * *

“So, how did it go?”

Chakotay looked up from entering his door code to see his captain smiling at him from her own doorway. Other than the senior staff briefing that morning, this was the first he’d seen of her. She’d been holed up in engineering with B’Elanna all day, going over the latest modifications the chief engineer had cooked up. He was surprised the two of them had surfaced this close to the actual end of shift. Then again, Tom had mentioned plans for a romantic evening with his wife. Looked like Kathryn had been dumped in favor of a night of television and a large bowl of popcorn.

“I have to admit your choice of location for Seven’s and my first date was a pretty good one,” he said, returning her smile.

“Good, it’s years since I’ve been to the real River Walk, but I always thought that program came pretty close. Why don’t you stop by later and fill me in on how it went?” Kathryn was obviously eager to begin her own mentoring role.

Chakotay, on the other hand, was having second thoughts. Now that the moment of truth was here, the idea of sharing all the intimate details of his dating another woman with his captain, and best friend, was about as appealing as . . . as . . . as the communal visits to the local hot springs on Trebus he’d endured as an insecure teenager. He still used memories of the village aunties enthusiastically discussing his attributes to quell inconvenient sexual responses. Not that his dates with Seven were going to call for that, not by a long shot, but. . . .

Dammit all, if Kathryn was so eager to know what happened on his dates maybe she should just come along.

_Now there was an idea._

* * *

“I’d forgotten how peaceful it is here. Hard to believe we are in the middle of a modern, bustling city, isn’t it?” Kathryn leaned against the wrought-iron railing that separated this section of walkway from the artificial river winding its way through the heart of San Antonio, gazing out over the placid green waters held in place by concrete banks lined with shops, galleries, gardens and intimate cafes.

Chakotay hitched a hip onto the edge of a low, stone planter. Just behind and slightly to the side of Kathryn’s position, he had a clear view of both the river and the woman. He took a moment to admire her trim form dressed in a long-sleeved, white blouse tucked into a slim, belted pair of stone-washed jeans before responding.

“Seven questioned the rationalization of Earth’s Historical Preservation Society in restoring sites such as this. She ‘failed to see the historical relevance of parks, waterways, botanical gardens, and other non-productive open spaces.'”

A throaty chuckle rang out at his imitation of Seven’s no-nonsense reasoning and Kathryn turned from her contemplation of the river to face him. “I guess the Borg never feel the urge to get away from it all.”

Chakotay let out a snort. “The only urge the Borg feel is for. . . .”

“Assimilation,” the two of them exclaimed, laughing.

“Still, from what you’ve shown me of your date so far, Seven must have enjoyed herself.” Kathryn reached up to brush back some errant wisps of hair blowing across her cheek. “I know I am.”

Grateful for the raised hand blocking her view of him, Chakotay fought to neutralize the grin threatening to crack his jaw. Damp it down, old man. Of course she was enjoying herself; the woman usually had to be forced at phaser-point to relax. Over react now, and he’d blow the whole shooting match.

Good, good. Bad puns always made him grimace.

“Are you all right, Chakotay?”

_Shit._ “I. . . .”

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Fine, I’m fine. Just . . . just hungry. Are you ready to re-create the wining and dining portion of this date, O’ Mentor of the Mentor?”

“Lead on, O’ Experienced One,” Kathryn replied, taking the arm he offered. “Though I can’t believe you fed your date chili–especially on the first date.”

“Ah, but you forget my Maquis background. Living dangerously is my life.”

Kathryn shook her head, rolling her eyes. “That’s it. When this date is over, we are heading straight to sickbay and getting that head of yours examined.”

Chakotay just smiled.

* * *

The second date was dinner and a concert.

Chakotay sat up, grunting softly at the jab in his ribs.

“You can knock off the fake snoring, I get the idea,” Kathryn hissed quietly. “How did Seven react to you falling asleep in the middle of Grendor’s Concerto Majestico?”

Chakotay grinned sheepishly, pulling on an earlobe. “Fortunately, Borg concentration is very intense. I did wake up when the cymbals started clanging.”

“That’s the end of the piece, Chakotay. Good thing my concentration isn’t so one track or you’d have missed the whole concert again.”

“Thank you, Kathryn,” he whispered, rubbing his tender ribs.

* * *

Seven had her own idea of what they might do for the third date, so Chakotay ran it past his mentor. “Sounds like fun,” was her only comment.

She had a bit more to say when Chakotay took her to the holodeck for the date’s re-creation.

“Don’t get me wrong, you, of all people, know my fondness for outdoor activities draws the line at too much dirt and too many creepy crawlies, but a picnic in the cargo bay? That seems so. . . .”

“Sterile? Cold?”

“Borgish,” they decided, sharing an amused look.

Chakotay shifted his grip on the picnic basket he was carrying and leaned back against a storage container. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he let his eyes wander over his captain as she turned in a slow circle, surveying their surroundings. It never failed to amaze him how much of the woman Kathryn Janeway was masked by her Starfleet uniform, especially when she wore something like the navy blue sundress with tiny, white polka dots currently accenting her curves. The only thing marring this delightful view was the frown she also wore. Of course, if that frown meant what he hoped it meant. . . .

He sent a quick prayer to his ancestors.

Janeway stopped circling. “Since we already know how the setting rates, we should be able to change that factor without affecting the evaluation of the rest of the date, don’t you think?” she asked.

_Thank you, ancestors._

“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “And I know the perfect spot. Computer, run program Attractions of Bajor 157.”

Chakotay flashed his dimples at his companion’s questioning look. “Ever explored the Pathways of Divine Ecstasy?”

The questioning look ratcheted up several notches.

“Hey, what kind of date do you think I am? It’s a garden, Kathryn, just a garden.”

* * *

The fourth date, dinner in his quarters, brought a complication neither of the command team had anticipated. Chakotay waited until they were clearing the table before broaching the subject.

“She didn’t.”

“She did.”

“But it was just a friendly little show of affection between friends, right?”

“I know it’s been awhile, Kathryn, but I’m fairly certain I haven’t totally forgotten what it feels like to have a tongue thrust down my throat.”

“Couldn’t you have kept your mouth closed?”

Already feeling an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment, anger, and guilt at letting his Borg date plant a big, wet one on him, Chakotay had hoped Kathryn would be a bit more sympathetic. But no, she was laughing at him, actually daring to ask how Seven outmaneuvered him. He had half a mind to show her.

“Oh, what the hell.” Faster than a springing jungle cat, Chakotay grabbed Janeway, pulling her to him as his lips fastened on hers. Her gasp of surprise was all the opening he needed; his tongue thoroughly tasting her before he released her.

“Does that answer your question?” he asked, moving to put the table between them as he resumed the task of clearing it. He needed the space–and the village aunties working overtime–to help him regain his equilibrium, but it was definitely worth it. Kathryn didn’t look any steadier than he felt. He waited for the inevitable reprimand, but all she offered was a quiet “Yes, yes, it does,” before she joined in the cleanup.

They worked in silence and the awkward tension between them gradually faded. By the time they were seated on the couch, Chakotay pouring them each a glass of wine, their usual, comfortable camaraderie was slipping back into place.

Still, for a time, their conversation stuck to safe topics: personnel assignments, the latest gossip. Chakotay was a bit surprised when it was Kathryn who brought them back to his mentorship of Seven, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

“I suppose it was foolish of us to not consider that something like that could happen,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “Physical contact in a dating situation isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.”

“No, it’s not.” He shifted on the couch, facing her. “Guess we’re both a little rusty at this dating thing,” he continued, trying to keep things light.

She looked directly at him then, the corner of her mouth curling up. “Then I guess it’s a good thing at least one of us is getting in some practice.”

“We could always set you up to mentor Harry, or better yet, Mortimer Harron.”

Chakotay laughed out loud when she nearly choked on her wine, but he had to admire her speedy recovery.

“Unlike some people, I am not into cradle-robbing.”

Pressing a hand over his heart, he tried to look wounded. “Hey, I’m not that old.”

“You keep telling yourself that, okay,” Kathryn replied, patting his arm solicitously. “Now, about your next date. . . .”

* * *

As agreed, Chakotay began encouraging Seven to help plan where they would go and what they would do. After all, Kathryn told him, a woman appreciated some say in how she was wined and dined. To his surprise, the next few dates were an enjoyable mix of intellectual and physical events: front row seats at a lecture hall, front row seats at a parisee squares tournament; a night of theater, a day of skiing; a stroll through a museum, a hike in the Arizona desert.

He was even more surprised–and secretly delighted–Kathryn showed no signs of wishing to discontinue their re-enactments. It did puzzle him for a bit that, while she still gave him plenty of feedback on the actual dates, more and more often she began to subtly change some aspect such as the lecture topic, the play they saw, or even the location where they skied or hiked when the two of they re-created the dates. When asked, she prevaricated with something about preserving the integrity of the dates while keeping his mentoring fresh. Since he found the changes better suited to his and Kathryn’s common interests, he didn’t press the matter.

As for the issue of physical contact, he’d intended on digging in his heels for the duration when it suddenly dawned on him the possible advantages inherent in “letting things proceed naturally” as Kathryn suggested. It would take skill and cunning, not to mention some careful treading, to obtain his objective; but if a Native American, former Star Fleet tactical expert and ex-Maquis operative couldn’t handle the job, who could? He capitulated with carefully feigned reluctance.

* * *

“She actually pinned you to the floor?”

There were tears streaming down Kathryn’s face by the time he finished his sad tale of his first attempt to put his arm around Seven’s shoulders. It seemed he’d focused his tactical skills on managing the wrong woman.

“That must have bruised that tough Maquis ego of yours–among other things. Maybe dating isn’t the only thing you’ve gotten rusty at. I’m sure Tuvok would be happy to give you some refresher classes on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Very funny, Kathryn.”

“Okay, okay,” Janeway gasped through her laughter. She took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Unless you are wandering from the parameters of the actual date,” she said, tapping the arm resting across her own shoulders, “I take it you and Seven worked out why she reacted the way she did to you touching her.”

“We did. It was actually quite simple once I recognized the frame of reference behind her fear. Think about it, Kathryn,” he said, turning a bit so his free hand could reach up and touch the pulse point on the side of her neck, “as a Borg, the one touch foremost in Seven’s experience is the sharp sting of assimilation.”

Kathryn’s startled gaze met his. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said quietly. In her eyes, Chakotay saw sadness and sympathy tinged with a hint of her own remembered fear. He stepped closer, pulling her into a hug.

She allowed the embrace for a moment; then pulled away, forcing a smile onto her face. “See, another perfect example of why you make the perfect dating mentor.”

“Only because you are here to mentor my mentoring,” he told her. “I couldn’t do this without your guidance.” Taking a chance, he added, “I’ve found our da . . . err, re-enactments especially helpful. Thank you for putting up with them . . . and me.”

“All a part of the service, Commander,” Kathryn replied, her smile genuine this time. “And, speaking of re-enactments, I believe we have one to finish.”

As they headed off to continue the evening’s activities, Chakotay heaved a silent sigh of relief. Not only had he survived what could have been a major roadblock to the likelihood of continuing this convoluted experiment in social interaction, but after all his worry, Kathryn hadn’t so much as raised an eyebrow at his touches, accepting them as just a natural part of their re-enactments. Who knew he had such a rosy future as a dating mentor.

* * *

“What do you mean Seven no longer wishes to date you?”

At any other time, Chakotay would have found the sight of Kathryn Janeway, bare feet braced on the gently rolling deck, caramel-colored hair blowing in the breeze, her hands firmly planted on hips covered in a sage green swim suit and gauzy wrap-around skirt, mesmerizing. But not when her flashing blue eyes were boring a hole straight through him. For a brief moment, he considered loosening his hold on the rope railing to either side of him and letting his body slide from his seat on the gunwale into the lake, sinking slowly into the moonlit depths. Too bad the holodeck safeties would deny him the dignity of a quick death by drowning.

He let out a deep sigh, meeting the patented Janeway death-glare head-on. “Just what I said, Kathryn. This,” he said, his gesture encompassing the sailboat and the lake on which it was anchored, “will be our final date.”

“Re-enactment.”

“Whatever. The point is, after tonight, consider me retired from date mentoring.” He gave her a weary smile. “Which means, by default, you are retired from mentoring the mentor.”

The hands came off her hips as Kathryn’s gaze mellowed into puzzlement. “But why, Chakotay? I mean, it seemed to be going so well. Did Seven give a reason?”

He wasn’t quick enough; she caught his discomfort and jumped on it faster than a Cardassian vole on moldy cheese. She was even faster to dismiss his feeble attempt to convince her it was merely a case of the student surpassing the mentor. Seeing no other course, he caved.

“All right. You want the real reason–I’ll give you the real reason. It’s all your fault anyway.”

He raised a hand, cutting off her protest. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

It seemed he wasn’t the only one who knew when to give in. Nodding her head, Kathryn dropped gracefully to the deck and settled back against the companionway, her arms circling her drawn-up knees.

“As I was saying, it’s actually your fault Seven dumped me. You’re the one who insisted we use the Lake George program when she and I decided to go sailing. I told you I wasn’t comfortable using that program. I told you I wanted to try sailing somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

Unable to sit any longer, Chakotay lurched to his feet, pacing the deck, his words pouring forth in a torrent.

“Did you listen, Kathryn? Of course not. ‘You know what to expect on the lake, Chakotay. You’re used to handling the boat, Chakotay. A familiar program will be more relaxing, Chakotay.’” He shook his head. “Just an enjoyable evening of moonlight sailing, you kept telling me. Moonlight . . . sailing . . . a little champagne.”

His eyes fastened on hers. “Sound familiar, Kathryn?”

Janeway’s expression melted into dismay. “Oh . . . Chakotay, I’m so sorry. I had no–“

“Shut-up, Kathryn.”

Chakotay turned from her then, staring out over the water, his hands clenched tightly around the rope railing.

“Seven and I were standing right about where I am now, each of us with an arm around the other, watching the moon rise. She was telling me something about how much she was enjoying our sailing date, how much she enjoyed all our dates. I wasn’t really listening to her; I was thinking of another moonrise, the feel of my arm around someone else.

“Seven, of course, had no clue what I was thinking. She turned to me, pulling me into one of those kisses she likes so well.” Chakotay glanced over his shoulder at the woman listening in shocked silence. “And your Borg drone does like to kiss, Kathryn.”

Unable–or unwilling–to come up with a response, Kathryn just shrugged.

Chakotay turned back to the water. “I think she was just trying to thank me in what she thought was the appropriate dating response, but I’d let myself get so lost in memories it wasn’t Seven’s kiss I returned. It wasn’t Seven’s body I reacted to.

“And that’s when she asked me.”

Words that had flowed effortlessly up to that point suddenly deserted him. He stared, unseeing, out over the moonlit lake, once again lost in memories both old and new. A gentle touch on his arm brought him back to the present and he looked down to see Kathryn standing at his side.

“Oh, Chakotay. Don’t blame yourself so much. Seven is quite literally a virgin when it comes to situations like the one you described. It’s not unusual for someone with her lack of experience to become frightened and unsure of how to handle such a reaction. Especially when she unknowingly initiated the encounter.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. With each sentence Kathryn uttered, Chakotay laughed harder and harder.

“Chakotay, this isn’t funny. I need to go talk to Seven. Help her understand what happened.”

His laughter ended with a snort. “Kathryn, you don’t have a clue what happened.”

“Oh, I think I do, Commander,” she snapped. “Someone let his hormones go into overdrive and an innocent young woman had no recourse but to end her student-mentor relationship with the big oaf. She’s probably been put off dating for good.”

“I doubt it. Your poor little virgin Borg propositioned me, Captain.”

Kathryn froze–a look of utter disbelief on her face.

It was that look that pushed Chakotay over the edge. “You like re-enactments so much, let’s try this one,” he said, “We’re in each other’s arms . . .”

He grabbed Kathryn and pulling her against him.

“. . . Tongues tangling . . .”

Breathing was overrated.

“. . . My raging hard-on pressed into her belly . . .”

No surprises there.

“. . . When, out of the blue, Seven pulls back and asks me ever so sweetly ‘Would you like to copulate now, Chakotay?'”

Loosening his hold on Janeway, he called up visions of the village aunties as he waited for the explosion.

“Oh, lord.” Kathryn’s forehead hit his chest with a loud thump, her hands clinging to his arms as if they were the only thing holding her upright. Minutes dragged by as she stood there, shaking her head occasionally, and muttering softly. Unsure what else to do, Chakotay made like a statue.

At long last, Kathryn let out a deep sigh and raised her head to look at him. Her face was flushed, but whether from anger or something else, he couldn’t tell. He relaxed a bit when she gave him a quick, sympathetic smile.

“All right, putting aside for the moment the plethora of mixed signals and the rather blurry question of who propositioned who, what did you tell her, Chakotay?” she asked.

“I told her, first of all, I prefer making love to copulation, and, secondly, I believe making love should be shared by two people who are in love.”

The oddest expression crossed Kathryn’s face at his words, one he couldn’t quite read, but before he had a chance to probe, it was gone and she was asking, “Anything else?”

“Yes. I reminded her, our arrangement was that of a student and mentor, and while I enjoyed our dates, the end result was never intended to be either copulation or making love.”

Kathryn snorted softly. “Well, if nothing else, you were certainly honest with her. How did she respond?”

“With equal honesty, actually.”

“This is where she dumped you?”

“Amongst other things.” Why did he say that?

“Chakotay?”

For a long moment, Chakotay debated with himself. Did he really want to risk everything? As remarkable as Kathryn’s calm acceptance of everything that had transpired so far was–including that quasi-assault he’d just pulled, it was also more than a little unnerving. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Then again, he’d already been dumped by one date. Why not go for broke?

“Just remember, you asked, Kathryn.” Chakotay took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush of words.

“Seven said she understood, and despite her actions to the contrary, she was aware from the beginning of the limitations on our dates. She was intrigued, however, by the differences in those dates and the others, and was merely trying to ascertain whether the same limitations applied to my dates with the captain.”

“She knew about our dates?”

“We never really made a secret of our re-enactments, Kathryn.”

“Dates, Chakotay. In other words, the whole ship knows.”

“It is a small ship.”

For the second time that evening, Kathryn’s forehead thumped onto his chest. “Damn. I guess that’s that then.”

“Kathryn?”

“If the whole ship knows, then they know Seven dumped you. Don’t you think continuing our dates would be a little obvious after that?”

“Continue?” Chakotay teetered between disbelief and confusion. “Bear with me here, Kathryn. Up until a few moments ago, you avoided even referring to them as dates and now you want them to continue?”

With a hand on either side of his jaw, Kathryn pulled his head down to hers for a lengthy and very thorough response. “Does that answer your question?” she asked in a throaty purr when they finally came up for air.

The other shoe hadn’t dropped–it smacked him up the side of his head. Unable to speak, he just nodded; then shivered as that purr continued.

“Good, because I have a question of my own. Would you like to copulate now, Chakotay?”

With a roar of laughter they could probably hear on the bridge, Chakotay swept Kathryn up in his arms, spinning in a dizzy circle that nearly put them both over the side. Pulling off a move that belied his tarnished reputation at piloting, he managed a safe, if rather graceless, landing on the companionway instead. Settling Kathryn comfortably in his lap, Chakotay bent his head towards hers until their foreheads were touching, their breaths mingling.

“I don’t think so,” he said, giving her a soft kiss. “But,” he continued, dimples shining brighter than the moon overhead, “if a certain someone is interested in joining me below deck, I’d be more than happy to make love.”

**THE END**


End file.
